


Back to school

by Tastefulcucumber



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Classes, Cookies, M/M, School, Tension, calculater, calculator - Freeform, debate, for the lolz, i might rewrite this with just baljeet and buford because man what a pairing, outfit planning, summer's over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:18:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tastefulcucumber/pseuds/Tastefulcucumber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phineas, Ferb, Baljeet, Buford, and Isabella are all getting ready to start the 8th grade. What adventures will they find during school, now that the summer is over?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ending Summer

Everyone was back to school. Though everyone will miss the summer, there is a strange excitement about going back to the books. The gang was entering the 8th grade. They are the top dogs in their middle school this year.

With the entrance into the 8th grade, new courses opened up to the middle schoolers. Phineas decided to take advanced algebra (pt. 1), digital design (part one), and woodshop, along with his and his peers requirements. (Tri-State-Area History, Physical Education, Different levels of Math, Basic Sciences) Ferb had actually taken different classes then Phineas. He took advanced algebra (pt. 2), a drafting class, and forensics. Balgeet took the same math as Ferb, along with orchestra (for beginners) and biology. Buford had taken target math, target science, and weightlifting (for beginners). Isabella took advanced algebra (pt. 2) with Phineas (*swooning from Isabella from being in a class with Phineas*) forensics with Ferb, and biology with Baljeet.

A week before schools starts, the extreme school shopping begins. Graphing calculators here, drafting tables there, and even a oboe for Baljeet. Of course everyone needs a backpack too. Phineas absolutely begged his mom for a $199.99 backpack from the local sporting goods store (that didn't happen) and Ferb just wanted a simple book-bag (he new he could deck it out later) Clothes were bought, shoes were tried on, everyone went to the mall together. Candace wouldn't stop asking for a new phone. "But mooooom! It's the LG G3! Its top of the line! MOM! PLEASE?!" "Maybe next year" Her mom would answer.


	2. Outfit Planning

School starts tomorrow. Nerves are up, and everyone is anxious to see how tomorrow pans out. Phineas and Ferb plan there outfits for the next day, Phineas picks a green t-shirt, black jacket, and blue jeans; and Ferb picks out some weird purple bowling for soup t-shirt and black jeans.

"Are you nervous? For school, I mean." Phineas asked his brother. After Ferb gave a little shrug, Phineas continued. "I guess I really shouldn't be nervous… I guess I'm just worried that, well, we wont have any fun during the school year. Its not like we can build a roller-coaster through the halls, or open a restaurant in the cafeteria, right?"

Ferb actually answered Phineas, instead of giving him a shrug or a nod of the head, like he normally does. "Just because seven hours of our day is going to be spent learning, or going through unnecessary social interactions, doesn't mean our summer has to end. The weathers still good, how about after tomorrow we do something outside, like we would be doing if we didn't have school…"

"What if we have homework? What if we have to study for something! What if we have to do our chores everyday after school. Man, I don't want to be stuck inside doing chores!" Phineas exhaled deeply. He looked over at the clock. It read 10:23 P.M. "Well, might as well stop thinking about it. We have to wake up at seven, bro. Lets just go to bed…"

In the room next to the boys, was a teenage girl on her phone, laying backwards on her bed, chatting away with one of her friends, Stacy.

"Come on Stacy, I am not wearing purple for the first day of our softmore year! We aren't freshman anymore… we have to dress to impress!"

"Relax Candace. And there isn't anything wrong with purple… I was planning on wearing by purple shawl tomorrow. The one with the beads?"

"Ugh, Stace. No. Please don't… Wait! I know what im going to wear. Remember that one lace shirt."

"Am I suppost to?

"You know! The white one, with the lacy-ness. The dressy one, you bought the same kind in blue!"

"Oh! That one? Yeah sure whatever. Go ahead. I'm still wearing my purple shawl though. And don't try to stop me."

"If you want to embarrass yourself the go right ahead, Stace. But I am going to make myself beknown to all of my peers as, 'Candace, The Fashionista of the Class of 2017'!"

"Whatever you say. Oh god, what time is it?"

"…10:47…"

"We better hit the hay, I want to try to do winged eyeliner for tommarow. That's going to take me hours. Ttyl, Candace."

"Cya tomorrow, Stace.


	3. Cookies

Isabella's house is three blocks away from the Flynn's home. Outfit already picked out, books already in bags, her house is quite. It is 9 P.M., and Isabella is in her bed, pink poodle pajamas on, fuzzy green socks (Aloe Infused, FYI). On the end of her bed is her hyper-active-food-loving-pooch Pinky. Though she was in bed, Isabella wasn't at all tired. She was watching some buzzfeed videos on her phone, and going through her facebook on her six year old laptop.

Just then, pinky barked, and Isabella looked up to see her mother at her doorway.

"Come on mi hija, get of that phone of yours. Make you have podrido cerebro. Come downstairs, help me make day-before-school cookies."

Isabella's face lit up. "Ooo! Really? Be right down mom!"

Her mother smiled and headed down the stairs. Isabella kicked her blanket off of her, and closed her laptop. Down the stairs and into the kitchen was her mom, starting to take out the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.

"Preheat oven to 375, `Bella!"

Isabella went to the stove and turned the knob to 375. Knowing that her mother probably had some baking pans inside the oven (who doesn't!?), she opened the and grabbed the extra pans, putting them on top of the stove.

"You want to put ingredients in the bowl?" Isabella's mother asks her.

"Oh why of course!"

Mom starts reading off the ingredients, and as she reads them off, Isabella adds the ingredients into the bowl.

"Alright, you neeeeeeddd… 2 ¼ cup flour; 1 teaspoon baking soda; pinch of salt; 2 sticks of the butter, and make sure to cut the sticks into pieces for easier mixing, `Bella! … And then ¾ Cup Sugar, and the same about of brown sugar, ¾ 's cup I mean. Little bit vanilla, and go ahead and use good kind. No artificial… two eggs. Got all that?"

Isabella cracks the last egg into the bowl. Surprisingly, she didn't get the yolk all over the place. "Yeah, mom, now what?"

"Start mixing! Unless you want me to do that part."

"Cant the beaters do that part, mom?"

"If you want to get out the beaters, go ahead."

Isabella really didn't want to get out the beaters. Getting them out meant she had to find them under the cupboard, and the cupboard was full of crap. So she rather not. When she finished mixing the ingredients, which took a few minutes, saying Isabella didn't have the best arm strength.

"Time for chocolate! Go ahead and poor the chocolates in, mi hija."

Isabella took the bag of chocolate chips from her mother, and poured half the bag in, then she thought 'there is never such thing as too much chocolate chips!' so she poured the rest of the bag in the bowl. After a good mixing, (man, Isabella's arms are going to get toned doing all this mixing!) She greased the pan her mother got out. She and her mother put a dozen clumps of cookie dough on the pan, and stuck it in the oven.

"Alrighty, I'm setting the timer for how long?" Isabella asked her mother.

"20 minutes, more or less."

"Hey, there is only enough cookie dough left for, like, four cookies mom…" Isabella commented this with increased anticipation. 'Cookie Dough! Cookie Dough!' She chanted in her head.

Her mother sighed, "Go ahead." And before she let Isabella run off with the cookie dough, she stuck her finger in the bowl for a little dough herself. Isabella did run off with the dough, and her mother smiled at the back of her head, and started to clean off the countertops.


	4. Calculator

Baljeet was probably the least exited to start the 8th grade. His title is "the nerd", and if he was the nerd during the summer, he sure as hell is going to be the nerd of the school year. The classes he picked out doesn't help tune down his nerdness. Advanced Algebra Two, Biology with the 9th graders, might as well stamp the word "loser" across his forehead.

He also joined orchestra. He has been having a few lessons during the summer, but he wasn't the best at music. But Baljeet was an ambitious guy, and he was going to learn to play an instrument. He probably could have picked an easier instrument then the oboe, but he wanted to push himself to the max.

Baljeet decided he was going to dress to impress this year. No more pocket protectors or overalls for him. This is 8th grade we're talking about here. His class is the oldest in the building! He had to step up his fashion skills. Or at least dress like a thirteen and a half-year-old kid instead of a nine year old. It took him fifteen minutes to figure out what to wear. He finally settled on a navy blue shirt, a leather jacket, and light blue jeans. He also bought a pair of vans, just for a extra hint of "cool".

It was only 7 at night when he finished his outfit planning. After taking a shower and putting pajamas on, he was incredibly, indescribably, bored. Looking around his bedroom, he spotted his new graphing calculator he bought a few days ago. Wanting to check it out, he opened it out of its stubborn plastic package, and turned it on. The cursor blank and Baljeet started to test the new calculator out. Basic things. Sine of 90 degrees, square root of 144, 49r times 91r square equals r. Just the basics. It worked perfectly, so Baljeet put the cover over the expensive calculator, and then put it in his bag.

He checked the time again. It was 7:30. Thinking he should just go to bed now, he got in his bed and closed his eyes.

Bzz bzz … bzz bzz…  
His eyes flickered back open. His phone was viborating. That meant he had a new email (unlikely), or a new text message (impossible). He checked his phone and sure enough he got a new message.

Nice calculator. Shame if someone took it.

What? Who was this? Firstly, Baljeet never got a text from anyone other then his mother. And his mother cant text worth crap. (though if he told her this she would have him unthinized.) And… his calculator? What? What did that have to do with anything? I guess he did play with it… but… what…

Tap tap tap  
There was a slight tapping at the window, and Baljeet swung his head around lighting speed. Outside the window was the neighborhood bully, Buford. Rolling his eyes, Baljeet went to the window, flipped it off, and pulled down the shades.

Out of all the bullies Baljeet had, Buford was his best. Best being in a good way. Sure, he would call Baljeet names, and pick on him, and occasionally throw him into the nearest trashcan, he also made sure no one else was picking on him. Buford would stand up for the nerd. Because of course, that particular nerd was his property. And no one else can pound on his property. To Baljeet, Buford came across as more of an overly aggressive friend, then someone plotting to mentally and physically brake him. Baljeet hated being a nerd, but he didn't mind being bullied (as long as that bully's name starts with a B and ends with a D and has an F in it).


	5. Debate

Buford was tired of school. He wanted to be done with it. Like in the olden days, when you only had to attend school to the 8th grade. This could be his last year! If he lived in 1850. Buford was honestly thinking of just not showing up to school tomorrow. He skips all the time anyway, why not skip the first day of school. His mom didn't have to know. He would put his backpack on, and start walking around the block, well waiting for his mom to go to work. And when she did leave, he would go back in the house. She wouldn't come back until six anyway. She would never know… unless the school called her! But wait, would the school really care that much that one student didn't show up and did have a parent call in… its not like elementary school, were the teachers actually cared about you and your well-being.

Buford was thinking all this as he was walking around Danville. He rounded the corner to Baljeet's house. Its only seven, maybe he'll give the twerp a scare. He went around to his bedroom window (don't ask how he knows were that is :P) looking into he saw his nerd playing with a calculator. How cliché is that! Buford pulled out his phone and texted him, 'Nice calculator, shame if someone took it'

He watched as boy put the calculator back into his bag, and got into his bed. Buford checked the time on his phone. Its only seven thirty, who goes to bed at seven thirty! He hit send on his phone, and waited for Baljeet to get the text. Buford could tell that he got it when the nerd started looking around his room with a weird expression on his face.

Laughing, Buford tapped gently on the window. Baljeet got out of his bed, and flipped him off. That made Buford laugh even more. His nerd had some nerve. Sense when did his nerd have any nerve? Then the shades pulled down, and Buford started to walk towards the sidewalk.

Well, that was fun. Buford started for his house. When he got there, he saw his mom's car in the garage. Going inside, he saw his mother starting dinner.

"Where's dad, should he be back yet?" Buford asked his mother.

"Oh, honey, his flight got delayed! He's going to be in Chicago for tonight…"

Buford father worked all over the country. He was the Co-Manager for an insurance firm, traveling to meet his clients, going to meetings, typing reports. Buford didn't see much of him. But that was okay, his dad was always crabby anyway.

Buford climbed the stairs to his room, which happened to also be the attic. The walls were painted a dark blue and there was about three feet walking space until you ran into either his dresser or his bed. For a bully, his room was quite clean. It was just small. He cracked his back and sat on his bed, staring out the small hole his mother called a window. Sighing, he pulled up his shirtsleeve, but instead of skin, his arm was covered in masking tape.

Peeling off the tape revealed scars up and down the arm. Buford rubbed the arm a bit and pulled up the sleeve of his other arm, which also had masking tape. Peeling it off, revealed fresher scars and one was slightly bleeding. Buford slid his shirt sleeves back down, clumped up the tape, grabbed some sweatpants, and headed to the bathroom, were he threw out the tape, took a shower, and reapplied some more masking tape on his arms.

When he got back to his room, it was 8. He threw dirty clothes into the hamper, and went downstairs for his food. His mom made macaroni and cheese. He grabbed a bowl, got himself some food, and went back up into his room to eat.

After he ate and took the bowl back down the kitchen, he laid in his bed and played on his phone. He was still trying to make up his mind about skipping school. He new he shouldn't, just because it was the first day, but he wanted too. And with that thought, he went to sleep.


End file.
